“What does that mean?”
“It means you shouldn’t expect him to know who you are. When he was lucid, he understood what was going on with his diagnosis. He understood he would continue to get worse, but the rest of the time, he hasn’t been in the moment of the present-day world.”
Cole nodded, stuffed the brochure into his back pocket. Maybe this would be better for another day. A day when he hadn’t exhausted himself clearing snow from parking lots and shoveling driveways.
She stood and led him down the wide corridor. “He’s in what we call our rec room. Patients like to gather and socialize. We do have an outdoor area for summertime, but our doors are kept locked and you must be buzzed in or out. Alzheimer’s patients have a predisposition to wandering off due to their confusion. Our outdoor area has an eight-foot fence and is securely gated. It’s monitored with staff and cameras.”
She gestured to an open doorway. A balding man sat in a chair at a table, facing two other patients and a caregiver, talking. One of the residents, another man, stared out the window. The other, a woman, worked on a puzzle with the staff member. Cole stared at the man speaking, whose thin wisps of hair jutted out in all directions. The years hadn’t been kind to Grandpa.
All Cole caught was the mention of Vietnam and a medevac.
The raging monster in his teenage memories sat frail, small, and utterly lost to reality. Broken beyond repair.
The sight gripped Cole’s throat, closing off his airway. The man who’d been his childhood hero until he succumbed to alcoholism and the devastation of grief.
“He often talks about his service like the memories are fresh.” Camilla’s quiet words stilled him.
Cole nodded to acknowledge her, and the movement caught Grandpa’s eye. The man squinted. “Jimmy?” His jaw dropped open, his eyes wide. Frail, aged. “What are you doing here?”
James, Cole’s father. He turned to get guidance from Camilla, but she’d disappeared down the hall. He started to step back out of the room.
Grandpa gestured toward Cole. “This is my son, Jimmy. They live in Minneapolis, but he always brings his son, Cole, to spend summers with Rosalind and me.”
Cole swallowed. Don’t argue. Don’t try to reason. He stepped forward. “Thought I’d say hello and see how you are doing.”
“Did you bring Cole with you?” He beamed, leaning back in his chair. “That boy. He’s going to be a professional hockey player someday.” He turned toward the other residents and they lifted their attention to him. “And the last time we went fishing, that boy caught the biggest walleye I’ve ever seen.”
The other man nodded. “There’s some big ones.”
What? Cole tried to not let his grandfather’s words needle into him and pierce his heart.
“I need to go now.” Cole backed away. Air. He needed air.
“When will you come back?” his grandfather asked. As if he might actually care.
“I’m not sure.” Cole didn’t know what else to say. Everything began closing in on him as he made his way back past the central hub and bolted toward the exit door, giving a nod to the clerk when she buzzed him out.
For the first time, twenty degrees didn’t feel cold enough to soothe the fire in his heart.
He stood there, drinking in the frigid air. He needed to get out of this town.
“Hi, Cole.” Nathan Decker approached from the parking lot. Under his winter coat, he wore dress slacks and the knot of a tie snugged against the base of his neck like he’d come from church. He looked from Cole to the care center. “I’m glad you made it over here. How did it go?”
Cole opened his mouth. Closed it. Paused. “I don’t know how to answer that.” He hated the thickness in his voice.
“It’s difficult to see the changes with Alzheimer’s.” Nathan placed a gloved hand on Cole’s shoulder. “I like to volunteer here. I’ve known Edgar for quite a few years. He really had become a changed man. Sobered up. Spoke with regret about his past choices.”
Cole looked away. “He thought I was my father.”
Nathan pressed his lips together, nodded. “This is a good place for him to be. At this care center, no one is forgotten, even when they’ve forgotten who they are. The staff treats each one of them like family.”
Cole nodded. “That’s a mercy, I guess.” A mercy time hadn’t given him. He looked at Nathan. “I need your help to find a place for Megan to live. And it can’t cost more than her current rent. And it has to allow pets.”
“That’s going to be tough.” Nathan pulled out his phone and began making notes.
“I’ve been told you’re the best.”
“So, that’s how you’re going to play this one?” Nathan smiled. “I’m no miracle worker, but I’m pretty good with real estate.” He paused, considered. “So, a two-bedroom apartment, reasonable rent, allows pets.”
“And maybe some room for storage.”
Nathan raised a brow.
“She has some wedding stuff she stores in the first floor of my grandfather’s garage.”
“Okay, with storage.”
“And a nice yard area for kids to play in.”
Nathan stopped thumb-typing. “Are you trying to make it impossible for me to find a place? Because the initial request was fairly challenging right out of the gate.”
“No, it just needs to be the right place for her to want to move into it.”
A place she could call home. Because everyone else seemed to have forgotten his brutal family history—who the real bad guy was. If Cole kicked out Megan and her son, leaving them homeless in the winter, one thing was certain. Instead of his grandfather, he’d be the one forever remembered as the villain of Deep Haven.
Megan could do it all. Plan, decorate, and execute two weddings at the same time.
What she could not do was reach the ceiling hook for the lights.
She stood at the top of the ladder, glowing twinkle lights wrapped around her torso like Rambo, and wondering exactly how dangerous the “Not a Step” rung on the ten-foot ladder really was.
If there were awards given out for speed decorating, Megan was going to win, hands down. She’d arrived at Deep Haven Community Church early and began setting up tables and chairs before the sun came up. Anything to minimize contact with Cole and secure the Black Spruce down payment.
She’d filled all her spare time the day before by volunteering on a Meals on Wheels route after church, dropping off snacks for the hockey team, getting both brides through a rehearsal, and picking up Mrs. Olson’s prescription.
Indispensable. That’s exactly what Mrs. Olson had said. The word still swelled in Megan’s chest.
Megan startled when the doors to the fellowship hall flew open. She grappled to wrap her fingers around the top edges of the ladder, bobbling.
“Whoa, Mae!” Cole set down the box he carried and jogged toward her. He climbed up the ladder to rescue her, locking his arms around her. “Gotcha.”
“What are you doing here?” She took slow steps backward down the ladder, trapped between his strong arms.
“I was helping Seb Brewster unload some food boxes. Got to talk hockey with the mayor for a bit and thought it would be good to check in with the boss before I run some errands.”
She turned when her feet reached solid ground.
Oh boy. He wore a dark blue Henley that had the unfortunate effect of taking his eyes from dangerous to absolutely devastating. It molded around the muscles of his chest and arms, and she was pretty sure a man couldn’t possibly smell any better. Something woodsy like pine. Earthy and altogether appealing. Completely despicable.
And he called her Mae. His childhood nickname for her.
Again, oh boy.
“I couldn’t reach the ceiling hook to hang these.” She gestured to her luminous wrap.
“Please don’t do that again.” He put a hand on her arm. It had the full effect of an electric shock tingling through her entire body. “Can I help?”
She cle
ared her throat, stepped away from his concerned gaze. “For the record, I was doing well until you came in.” Sort of. She’d stayed busy because when she slowed down, the nagging voice in her head asked her what in the world she was going to do if Cole really did kick her out.
“There’s a reason it says ‘Not a Step.’”
“Okay, Ranger. Then, yes, I need your help.”
A smile hitched the side of his face. “All you had to do was ask.”
He scaled the ladder and hooked the string over the ceiling mount. “Where do they go from here?”
“I was thinking about putting them across the tables and over the place where the band will be playing.”
“What if we zigzag them across the entire room? Do you have more strands?”
She looked at the coils in his hands. “I do.”
“Let’s try it. It looks like there are hooks along the wall for hanging banners. You could use those.”
She climbed the step behind him to take the coil and walked it toward the wall to another ladder where the lower hooks were within her reach.
They continued to work back and forth around the room until the entire place was aglow in a warm wash of light. Why hadn’t she thought of doing this before?
Megan stepped back to survey the space.
Cole still stood on the ladder, his face triumphant. “It looks—”
“Wow—that’s magical!” Claire stood in the doorway holding an empty vase. “You two make a good team.”
Not a team. Not a team. Because teams stuck together. Worked together. Were in it for the long haul. And she couldn’t lean into the possibility. Because he was leaving just like he always did. And the sooner he did it the better. The last thing she wanted was Josh getting hurt.
Cole descended the ladder and folded it, then hauled it out into the hallway before returning.
Megan studied the room. The circular tables were draped in white cloths. At the center of each, she’d placed a miniature lantern with silver-covered branches and pine cones. Under the lights, the room became ethereal.
She turned back to Claire. “You don’t have the flowers, do you?”
“No, not this early. I had to pick up this vase left in the storeroom and couldn’t help but sneak a peek.” She lifted the vase. “I’ll see you guys later. Good job!”
Cole dropped an unlit strand of lights into the box. “It does look really good, Mae.”
She swallowed. He needed to quit calling her that. It felt too personal. Too familiar. And it made her want to lean into too many good memories.
She stepped away, putting distance between them. “I think we’re set.” She flipped off the twinkle lights and led the way to the foyer.
Cole picked up his coat. “I need to run. What time do I need to be here tonight?”
Megan looked at her watch—quarter to nine. “Be here at four?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He turned to leave, paused, and turned back. “No more ladders?”
She held up three fingers, Girl Scout style. “No more ladders.” Today.
Megan spent the rest of her morning finishing the decorations at the Art Colony by herself, followed by a mad dash through the grocery store and too much attention given to what she’d wear to the weddings.
It irked her that somehow tonight’s weddings felt different. She changed her dress for the third time, slipping into a blue one. For some reason, what she wore mattered. Which didn’t make any sense because she had no one to impress.
Nope. No one. Definitely not Army Ranger Cole Barrett. Because that would be a terrible idea.
Maybe worse had been her decision to accept his help. Or to consider the fact that it would be very possible to find a job in Minneapolis working for one of the big event companies. Yep, she was getting waaaay ahead of herself.
Besides, life in Minneapolis would mean a big school for Josh. Losing his friends. Having to sit in after-school programs while she worked to build someone else’s company.
Saying goodbye to her dreams. Nope. She wouldn’t leave Deep Haven. Not for anything—or anyone.
Oh, for Pete’s sake. Cole had been here for less than seventy-two hours and she already had Prince Charming stamped on his head, completely forgetting who he was and why he was here.
She stared out at the white landscape. The relative warmth of the day had melted some of the snow. Neighbors walked down the sidewalk, stopping to visit in clusters along the street.
Josh shrieked with laughter from the living room floor where he played some form of improvised charades with the babysitter—a senior from the church youth group, Kayleigh Nelson.
No. Deep Haven was their home and she wouldn’t let Cole derail that life. And if that meant working with him tonight, then so be it. She’d be one small step closer to buying the Black Spruce.
Claire had delivered the flowers for the second time in as many days, and Alexa had spent the morning messaging Megan with updates on the bridal party’s progress from Duluth. The roads were clear and they’d made a quick trip up the highway.
So, that was it. This might be an epic failure. An end to her career.
Or, they just might pull this off.
“I’m heading over to the Art Colony.” She grabbed her planning binder and purse. “There’s leftover pizza in the refrigerator and you might even find a pan of brownies.” She winked at Josh.
“Brownies? Yes!” Josh threw his hands in the air.
“I should be home by nine.”
“Okay, thanks, Ms. Carter.” Kayleigh smiled.
“Bye,” Josh answered before jumping up and pantomiming something that resembled a monkey playing a ukulele.
The sidewalks were clear the entire way to the Art Colony. The bride, Jessica Mullins, was already halfway dressed when Megan arrived, her bridesmaids giggling like school girls and her mother gently pulling up the zipper.
“Eager?”
“That obvious?” Jessica giggled. “I’ve been waiting nine months for this day. I’m so ready.”
“My other wedding is at the church, but I have an assistant helping with that one. I’m going to do a walk-through and make sure everything is set.”
“Okay, thank you.”
Megan had finished her final check when her phone buzzed with a text from Cole that everything looked good there.
Okay, then. Two eager brides. Check. Two well-dressed grooms. Check. All bridal party members where they were supposed to be. Check.
And she didn’t have to face Cole until the end of the evening.
They could do this. Right?
Thirty minutes later, Megan stood at the back of the venue watching Jessica and Garrett exchange vows. Maybe it was the stress of the weekend. The juggling of the day. Having to spend so much time with Cole. Mae. But somehow this time, the promises said at the altar stung. Reeled her back to the day she’d picked out her own dress and thumbed through books of floral arrangements.
Until, of course, Trevor broke off their engagement.
You’re the one who planned out our whole future together without ever asking me. You roped me into this—let’s be honest.
Her stomached tightened. Like the moment she’d realized what a fool she’d been. Naive. Blind.
There’s a simple solution to this problem. Just make an appointment.
But she couldn’t hide from God. No matter what, she couldn’t hide.
She stepped out of the former sanctuary to check on the reception hall. The multi-use building held a variety of creative classes during the week, but was also still a popular location for weddings and special events.
Her tall boots clicked across the tile, and she stopped to smooth the bow on her wrap dress. Nope. She didn’t need a man in her life and she was definitely not wearing the dress to impress.
She had nothing to fear from this night. Or Cole Barrett.
Chapter 5
The last thing Cole needed was a failed op.
Unfortunately, the success of Operation Aisle Run hing
ed on Cole wrangling the three-year-old flower girl down the aisle with her basket of rose petals. In truth, he’d met his match.
He tugged at the knot of his tie and squatted down to face the enemy.
“Stand here.” Cole pointed to the spot he’d marked with tape. She twirled around in her fluffy white dress. He handed her the basket of flower petals. “Okay, princess. You’re up.” He aimed her through the open doors and stood next to her.
She looked up at him with big, green eyes. Her feet didn’t move. Come on, kid.
This was so far out of his element. Cole had avoided weddings like a fish taco sitting all day in the summer sun. Maybe he was a little embarrassed at how he had let the memory of his parents down. Marrying a girl “just because” and throwing away the model they’d demonstrated.
He patted her head. “All you do is walk toward your mom. See her sitting up there waiting for you? Drop those petals from your basket, just like you practiced, okay?”
She nodded and grabbed his hand.
He knelt down, sliding his hand from hers. Clearly, she didn’t understand the rules of engagement. “I don’t go with you.”
She froze, and her face turned splotchy and scrunched up as she drew in a deep breath.
His mission was headed south in a hurry. The musicians repeated the interlude to cover the delay.
“You like cake, right?”
She nodded.
“As soon as you finish your job here, you’re going to get a big slice of cake. But everyone needs you to do this one job, okay?”
She narrowed her eyes and held up a finger at him. “I get a big piece.”
“Sure.” He pointed toward the open door and this time, she tromped down the aisle, chucking handfuls of petals in the air and letting them rain down on her like confetti.
Whatever worked. Mission accomplished.
Once she’d landed in the hands of her mother and the bride had been escorted down the aisle, he closed the sanctuary doors and went to the fellowship hall for a walk-through. The catering staff unloaded carts of food and prepared the buffet line at the far end of the room. Savory smells of prime rib and roasted vegetables permeated the room.
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